The Boy Next Door
by Luna Darkside
Summary: Everything is fine until Kudou Shinichi moves in next door. That's when things start getting complicated. /ShinKai & KaiShin, oneshot, complete/


_(Sorry I didn't post this yesterday - the site was down.)_

 _Seeing as I'm having some pretty terrible writer's block with_ Keep Me Warm _, I'm going to say it's on hiatus indefinitely. Apologies if you really liked that fic._

 _Anyway, this is just some senseless fluff that I wrote because neighbors!aus are fun and I hadn't written one yet (at least, not one I remember). Warnings include shounen-ai, possible grammar mistakes / general errors, Shinichi and Kaito being idiots, my terrible sense of humor, etc._

 _Hope you enjoy! - Luna_

 **The Boy Next Door**

Kaito had no qualms about admitting that he loved his house. He'd moved in only a year ago, after he'd landed a deal with the local theater to give biweekly magic shows and stage manage when he had time and had needed a place that was within walking distance, but the house had long since started feeling like home. True, the paint job looked as if it had been done by a drunken twelve-year-old who did not possess opposable thumbs and there was no air conditioning, which made for some literally hellish days during the summer. But it was fairly roomy for a starving magician and the yard fit all eighteen different hues of roses that Kaito liked to grow, and so Kaito adored the place for all its frayed edges and rusty piping.

It was too bad he was going to have to move now.

Clearing his throat, Kaito leaned heavily against the doorframe for support, tried to come up with something to say, and failed miserably. In front of him, Kudou Shinichi, in all his pretty, arrogant detective-ness, did the same.

A bird chirped somewhere in the distance.

"Oh my God," Shinichi finally said, breaking the uncomfortable silence. "I bought _Kaitou Kid_ a cake." Kaito glanced down mechanically to find that Shinichi was holding a white bakery box. The window on the lid revealed an ornately frosted strawberry shortcake, complete with glazed strawberries and a smiling fondant rabbit holding a wand stuck in the center. Kaito was struck by how surreally cute the whole gesture was.

"Why are you here," he asked blankly, instead of asking if Shinichi had actually gone into a shop and bought the cake himself. The thought of Kudou Shinichi, the picture of stoicism and irritatingly good hair, standing in a bakery choosing from a cake display was somehow both horrifying and adorable. Kaito wanted to say it was more horrifying, but alarmingly enough, he found himself thinking it was cute.

 _I need psychiatric help_ , Kaito thought wildly.

"Is it not obvious," Shinichi answered, equally blankly. "I moved in." And then, horror of all horrors, he pointed at the house directly beside Kaito's, which had been sitting empty for the past four months ever since Kaito's previous neighbor, a fledgling popstar who had a tendency to wear more makeup than clothes, had been evicted after getting arrested for drug possession.

Speechless, Kaito goggled at him. Sure, he had seen moving trucks parked up and down the street, but it hadn't fully registered that someone was moving in, let alone his ex-rival from the heist of his career.

"Don't you live in a four-story mansion?" was all he managed to say.

Shinichi looked pained. "First of all, it's kind of creepy that you know exactly what kind of house I live in. Second of all, I wanted to get my own place instead of living off my parents. Third of all, I wanted a house closer to the police station."

Huh. Kaito blinked. That – actually made sense, considering that the police station was only a few blocks away. "You couldn't have picked a few streets over?" he mumbled.

Rolling his eyes, Shinichi shoved the cake box at him. "It's not as if I chose this neighborhood just to live right next to you, Kid." He glanced back over his shoulder at the nameplate mounted on the front gate. "Or rather, Kuroba." Insert smirky, annoying _I have leverage on you and I will exploit it till kingdom come_ smile here. It was, unfortunately, rather familiar, even after not seeing Shinichi in person for a while.

Ignoring the cake box, Kaito reached up to pinch at the bridge of his nose. "So much for my secret identity."

"Oh, don't worry. I'm past my Kid hunting days," Shinichi hurried to assure him, and thrust the box at him again. "Take the cake."

Kaito eyed the box with burgeoning suspicion. "Did you do something to the cake?"

"For the love of – It's not as if I knew you were going to be my neighbor. Why would I have poisoned a welcome gift for some random civilian?"

"You filled it with arsenic, didn't you."

"Take the damn cake, Kuroba."

Grudgingly, Kaito took the cake from Shinichi. "I don't owe you for this," he felt the need to say, and Shinichi angled him an _are you shitting me_ sort of eyebrow-raise.

"It's a welcome gift, not my firstborn child," he sighed, and turned on his heel to flounce down Kaito's front walk, hips swaying slightly. At the sight, Kaito felt _I wouldn't mind having my firstborn child with you_ pass through a distant part of his brain and almost punched himself in the face, because ew. _Ew_.

Incidentally, the cake was delicious and Kaito ate over half of it before Aoko happened to stop by with Hakuba and their kid and chastised him about calories and sugar intake.

* * *

The next time Kaito saw Shinichi in a neighborly context (as in, not at a heist), it was a few weeks later. Kaito was channel surfing, quickly getting irritated by the number of variety shows and news programs, when there was a knock on the door.

Sighing, Kaito lowered the volume on the TV and ambled over to the front door. He wondered who it could be – he didn't recall ordering anything online, and he hadn't gotten door-to-door salesmen since that time he'd rigged the doorbell to shock anyone who pressed it. Maybe it was Aoko asking him to do some last-minute babysitting? It had happened before.

Kaito was still thinking over the possibilities when he opened the door and found himself face-to-face with Shinichi, who was holding a small stack of manila folders and a thin laptop in one hand and wearing a faintly pleading expression.

Instinctively, Kaito slammed the door shut.

After a moment, the doorbell rang again, the chime somehow sounding annoyed this time.

Sighing heavily, Kaito pulled the door open just a crack, this time with some trepidation. "Can I help you?" he asked over the edge of the door. Shinichi, unimpressed, wrenched the door out of his grip and threw it open, all with one hand. Kaito flinched. Shinichi was much stronger than he had thought. His gaze drifted unconsciously down to Shinichi's biceps, which filled out the sleeves of his t-shirt quite nicely, in Kaito's opinion.

"Yes, you can, if you're done being an asshole," Shinichi was saying when Kaito realized he was openly ogling Shinichi's (admittedly impressive) deltoids. He waved the folders he was holding in Kaito's face. "I'm working on these files."

When he didn't immediately continue, Kaito groaned and leaned up against the doorway, cocking his head as his shirt rode up a little. He really needed to invest in some better-fitting shirts. "How do you expect me to help you with your dead bodies, tantei-kun?"

For half a second, Shinichi's eyes flicked over Kaito, so quickly Kaito was convinced he'd imagined it, before Shinichi made a longsuffering noise. "I need to do some research, which involves using the internet."

"You use the _internet_ to _research_? There are things you don't know?" Kaito gave a dramatic, scandalized sound. Shinichi looked unamused. "I thought you knew _everything_ , considering the way you're marketed as the Heisei Holmes and the savior of the metropolitan police force and all that. I guess you're just a fraud."

"You're so funny," Shinichi said in a tone that sounded closer to _you're not funny and I'm going to eviscerate you at the earliest opportunity_. Kaito was used to getting that reaction, mostly from Hakuba and occasionally Aoko. "Anyway, the internet's down at my house, so I came over here to ask if I could use yours." He raised his eyebrows, prompting.

"What about your phone?" Kaito asked, hopeful.

"Coverage is shit out here," Shinichi answered, pulling out his – yep, he still had his red phone and soccer ball strap, endearingly enough. He shoved the screen at Kaito, which did indeed show he didn't have any service. "I meant to switch to a service provider that covers out here, but I haven't gotten around to it."

"My WiFi is really weak," Kaito tried, although it wasn't a lie. His router kind of sucked. "You'll have to stay close to the hotspot."

Shinichi didn't even bat an eyelash. "That's fine."

"The hotspot is in my house," Kaito tacked on.

"That was obvious," Shinichi agreed.

"In my house. Where I live," Kaito clarified.

The look Shinichi gave him was sharp enough to cut diamond. "Seriously, Kuroba, I'm not going to put flour in your hairdryer and switch your sugar with salt. I'm going to sit quietly in your living room and not say anything and bring some murderers to justice." Kaito must've looked put out because he rolled his eyes and added, "This is a matter of life or death."

"Actually, I'm pretty sure those victims are already dead," Kaito muttered, but he did let Shinichi in anyway.

Predictably, Shinichi lied. Well, he _did_ sit in Kaito's living room and bring murderers to justice and not sabotage Kaito's hairdryer or touch his spice rack, but he _did_ say things, mostly under his breath to himself. Although, worryingly enough, at one point, Kaito heard him say something that sounded suspiciously like, "Walruses can't weigh _that_ much, can they?" and then tap away madly on his laptop, presumably to find out the exact mass of a walrus.

The weirdest part of the afternoon, though, was how easily they fit together. Kaito tried to forget that he had a world-renowned detective who'd taken down a crime syndicate at the age of seventeen (although Kaito had done that as well, on a slightly smaller scale) sitting on his couch, using his WiFi and muttering things under his breath as he solved mysteries. Once he had (mostly) forgotten about him, the weird mumbling and rapid typing turning into background noise, Kaito found a marathon of a crime drama about some detective with a scar airing on one of the HD channels and was enthralled within minutes, despite his general dislike of detectives. The show seemed to explore more than just solving murders, which he appreciated.

Also the actor who played Samonji was good-looking, so. There was also that.

When Shinichi resurfaced a few hours later, yawning, Kaito was on the fourth episode, fully engrossed in the story. He was startled out of his stupor when Shinichi remarked, sounding surprised, "You're watching Detective Samonji?"

"Mmhm." Kaito flapped a hand at him blindly. "I don't need your judgment."

"No, that wasn't supposed to be judgmental. I love that show." Kaito nearly fell off the sofa when Shinichi scooted closer, a scarce few inches away from Kaito. He was so close that Kaito could smell his cologne, which was a strange combination of jasmine tea and crushed pine needles.

They ended up watching two more episodes together. Halfway through their third, which was kind of terrifying and focused on a serial killer who killed via continuous electrocution, Kaito got up to make coffee for himself.

"Want anything while I'm up?" he asked, stretching his arms over his head.

"Whatever you're getting for yourself is fine, thanks," Shinichi responded absently.

Kaito was halfway to the kitchen when he realized he had voluntarily offered to make Shinichi coffee, a most domestic and horrific prospect.

Quickly shoving the thought away into the place in his mind he designated for particularly terrible things like fish and what Hakuba and Aoko did as a married couple, Kaito set to work making the coffee. He hesitated over whether to add sugar or cream to Shinichi's, and in the end just went with one spoonful of sugar. Shinichi had the sort of bitter personality that suited near-black coffee, right?

In the end, it didn't seem to matter, because when Kaito handed the cup to Shinichi, Shinichi drank down half of it without missing a beat. Kaito blinked, bewildered, at the show of trust.

"I could've put salt in that," he stammered when Shinichi glanced at him, clearly wondering why Kaito was standing next to the sofa holding a mug instead of sitting down.

Shinichi shrugged and took another sip. "I like salted coffee, though."

Shaking his head, Kaito sat back down and went back to watching in companionable silence.

He woke up a few hours later, disoriented and inexplicably tucked under a blanket. The TV had been turned off, the lights dimmed, and there was no sign of Shinichi or his case files, although Kaito noticed his empty coffee cup sitting beside Kaito's on the coffee table.

* * *

For several days after that, Kaito didn't see Shinichi, except for one time he happened to be on the way to the theater at the same time Shinichi was getting his mail and they made somewhat friendly eye contact and traded nods. Kaito was sure that while they'd reached a sort of friendly sort of agreement not to kill each other on sight, they probably wouldn't interact much outside of heists.

Kaito was wrong, though, because he found himself standing outside Shinichi's house the next Tuesday.

It wasn't his fault, though (or at least Kaito tried to convince himself). His house didn't have air conditioning, okay, and it was, like, eighteen million degrees out. He was totally justified in crawled over to Shinichi's house, shirtless and sweating enough to fill several bathtubs, to beg to use Shinichi's air conditioning. It wasn't completely pathetic.

Needless to say, Kaito's dignity was taking a beating.

Shinichi opened the door on the second knock, looking irritatingly cool in an oversized cotton t-shirt that slipped temptingly over the curves of his shoulders and a pair of boxers. He wasn't even sweating a little. Kaito hated him, sort of.

He was half annoyed and half intrigued when Shinichi's eyebrows flew to his hairline the moment he caught sight of Kaito. Did Kaito really look that bad? He reached up to swipe his (soggy) bangs out of his face and grimaced when he felt how slick his face was. Yes, he really did look that bad. Maybe he should've tried an ice bath instead of sacrificing his pride for air conditioning. Hypothermia would be better than this.

"How may I help you?" Shinichi finally said, once he was done silently judging Kaito's current state of undress. (Or at least that's what Kaito assumed he was doing when his gaze flickered down over Kaito's abdomen.) He cleared his throat, blinking rapidly.

"Well, uh," Kaito began, awkwardly palming at the pockets of his shorts, more for something to do with his hands than necessity, "you know how it's fifty million degrees out?"

One side of Shinichi's devastatingly nice mouth turned up. "It's actually thirty-eight, but sure, I know."

"I don't have air conditioning," Kaito announced.

"Neither do I," Shinichi replied. Before Kaito could demand to know if he'd sold his soul for perpetual coolness (and if so, how could Kaito do the same), he went on, "But I do have eight fans."

Kaito almost melted on the spot. _Eight fans_ , dear Lord. He waited for Shinichi to invite him in.

"So," he prompted when Shinichi didn't continue.

"So if you want me to share my fans with you, you have to ask," Shinichi smirked. Kaito wanted to set fire to his eyebrows, as nicely shaped and angled as they were.

"Seriously, tantei-kun?" When Shinichi didn't relent, just smiled wider and smirkier, Kaito heaved a sigh and put his face in his hands. "Will you share your fans with me, oh great Shinichi-sama?" he grumbled between his fingers.

"Well, if the great Kaitou Kid is asking, of course I can," Shinichi purred, the infuriating little shit, and stepped gracefully aside so Kaito could come in. Kaito nearly cried at how cold the house was inside.

Shinichi's house was undecorated and well-organized, much as Kaito expected from him. Still, there was a line between minimalist and sad, and Shinichi landed closer to sad than minimalist. Kaito swept his gaze over the living room, which contained one sofa, a bare coffee table, a TV mounted on the far wall, and a potted plant that looked as though it had gone through several wars and a nuclear bombing or two. Oh and there were also a few fans placed strategically around the room, but that was it.

"This," Kaito announced, stopping in the doorway and making Shinichi bump into his back with a noise of surprise, "is _tragic_."

"Ugh." Shoving past Kaito, Shinichi stomped towards the sofa and threw himself down melodramatically. "May I remind you that I _just_ moved in? It's normal not to have a lot of stuff."

"Sure, it's normal," Kaito retorted, critically eyeing the completely unadorned white walls, "but this is just…" He shook his head. "It looks like how I imagine a depressed, middle-aged businessman whose wife and kids just left him would decorate his new house. While crying himself to sleep every night and battling the urge to give in to alcoholism."

Shinichi blinked at him.

"Point is," Kaito concluded, "it's sad."

"What do you recommend I do?" Shinichi groaned, dropping one arm across his face. "I already got the coffee table because my mom yelled at me and the plant because Ran gave me a lecture about carbon dioxide intake."

Staring at him unblinkingly, Kaito asked, very slowly, "Are you telling me that there was a point in time when all you had in here was the TV and the couch?"

"Um." Shinichi cleared his throat. "Possibly. That's not the point, though."

"Only you, tantei-kun," Kaito muttered under his breath. He rubbed at the bridge of his nose, feeling a migraine coming on. "Get a bookshelf. Adopt a cat. Buy some useless modern art." He pushed his halfway dry hair out of his face, leaning onto one leg. "Otherwise I'm not going to want to come visit you."

"Maybe I should leave it this way, then," Shinichi remarked, musing.

Kaito looked for something to throw at him, but all he could reach was the potted plant, and he didn't want to subject it to any more horrors. He settled for rolling his eyes and flouncing over to land on the couch beside Shinichi with a slightly damp thump. "Don't pretend like you don't love me."

"It's not pretending if it's the truth," Shinichi replied, but he was smiling just a little, so Kaito counted it as a personal win.

After Shinichi forced one of his spare shirts on Kaito for some reason he didn't specified, they ended up working on some of Shinichi's spare cases – well, Shinichi worked on them while Kaito made likely unhelpful comments like, "Oh my God _half his brain is on the ground why aren't you reacting_ " and "I bet it was the butler; it's always the butler" – until Shinichi got hungry and tried to cook. This nearly ended in a grease fire and a trip to the emergency room, but thankfully Kaito was able to salvage the situation while Shinichi sulked at the kitchen table and clutched at his slightly singed forearm.

In the end, they shared the cold ramen Kaito prepared and discussed (argued about) the latest episode of Detective Samonji. Once they had both exhausted themselves, Shinichi insisted on washing the dishes, but in an attempt to be a good guest, Kaito insisted on drying. They ended up standing hip-to-hip at Shinichi's too-small sink, snarking at each other half-heartedly and getting uncomfortably sudsy. Kaito's borrowed shirt was soaked by the time the dishes were put away. For some reason, Shinichi insisted he borrow _yet another_ shirt, shoving the shirt at Kaito when Kaito tried to argue.

Once Kaito was safely clad in his second shirt of the day, they somehow ended up playing a video game, some popular strategy-fighting game or something Shinichi had left over from his Conan days. Shinichi was, strangely, terrible at the game, and Kaito beat him eight out of ten, much to his delight and Shinichi's horror.

It wasn't until around seven thirty in the evening, when the sun had sunken past the horizon and the crickets were just beginning to chirp, that Shinichi gave Kaito a sort of sidelong look and commented, quiet, "When are you planning on going home?"

And Kaito drew up short, because he had been over at Shinichi's house for nearly the entire day, and he hadn't – he hadn't gotten annoyed at Shinichi or felt any urge to storm out in a rage at any point. He'd _enjoyed_ himself, something he only did with Aoko and Hakuba, on the very rare occasion.

"Uh," Kaito mumbled when Shinichi continued to look at him. "I guess – I guess I should go now, shouldn't I?"

"You don't have to," Shinichi told him, earnest, and Kaito got a strange, sudden urge to reach out and pull him close and kiss him on his pretty, slightly downturned mouth, an urge to run his hands through his hair and trace the line of his collarbone with his thumb and wake up next to him every morning.

Instead, because those kinds of thoughts were dangerous and only led to dark, heartbroken places, he just grinned and gasped, hand over heart, "Is the noble Kudou Shinichi inviting a lowly criminal like me to stay the night?" and watched Shinichi flush and swipe at him with a stray case file.

In the end, Kaito stayed over until eleven, when Shinichi was soft-eyed and yawning and adorable, and even then it was hard to leave.

* * *

Kaito was in the middle of researching his latest heist venue (the mysterious mansion of a millionaire who hoarded jewels like some kind of anthropomorphic dragon), jotting down notes and trying in vain to find blueprints, when a pair of hands descended on his shoulders with enough force to make him jump.

Naturally, Kaito's first instinct was to jump up, turn around, and roundhouse kick the intruder in the face, but seeing as the intruder was (shockingly enough) Shinichi, his foot only met air as Shinichi evaded with the grace of a ballet dancer (Shinichi as a ballet dancer – now that was something Kaito would need to think about later, preferably alone so he could blush without being judged).

"No need to be so _violent_ ," Shinichi drawled, looking inordinately pleased with himself.

Sighing to himself as he lowered his leg, Kaito sat back down at his desk and returned to clicking at the search bar. "I don't remember giving you a key."

"Your front door was completely unlocked," Shinichi answered easily, plopping down on Kaito's bed. He grinned. "Or maybe I picked it with a safety pin. Who knows."

Resisting the urge to say anything like, "I love a man who knows his way around a safety pin," because, um, _gross_ , Kaito remarked, "I don't understand why people think you're an upstanding citizen," as he scrolled through a few more pages of search results and wrinkling his nose.

Shinichi laughed, bouncing on the bed in a way that seemed like a leftover habit from his days as Conan. "It's because I don't openly showcase my illegal activity." In the computer monitor's reflection, Kaito could see Shinichi squinting. "What are you doing, anyway?"

Scandalized, Kaito swiveled in his chair to gape at him and clasp at his chest. "I'm offended, tantei-kun. I thought you were a true fan." When Shinichi just blinked at him, unimpressed, Kaito said, a little haughtily, "I have a heist scheduled for a few days from now."

"Oh, right." Comprehension dawned on Shinichi's face. "It's at that Wakayama person's mansion, isn't it? I saw it in the papers." He smiled, sugar-sweet enough that Kaito narrowed his eyes at him. "I thought you planned heists well in advance, though. Aren't you cutting it a bit close?"

"Excuse _you_ , some of my most successful heists were planned the night of." Still, Kaito's gaze slid to the computer screen, and he groaned. "Though this isn't going to be one of them. There's no information about the mansion on the internet."

"Really?" Shinichi tilted his head, like an extremely cute puppy. Kaito was probably biased, though. "Well, it doesn't really matter. The layout at the place isn't really conducive to stopping _you_ of all people. There are a lot of exits and air ducts. You could probably jump out the windows, too. It's a pretty breezy area, so you'd be fine with your hang glider." He paused, considering. "I hear they're holding the jewel on the seventh floor. Why don't you plan some trick to distract everyone while you leave through a window? I think there are a few in the exhibit hall they're going to use. I mean, they're probably going to be barred and armored and all, but you could find a way to replace one before the heist. Are window repairmen a thing?"

Startled, Kaito frowned at him. That was more information about the mansion than he'd found in over an hour of research. "What do you mean? How do you know that?"

Shinichi waved a hand dismissively. "I went to visit once as Conan. Sonoko's friends with the Wakayama group's oldest daughter, I think." He smirked crookedly. Kaito wanted to kiss the curve of his mouth away. "Am I being helpful, Kid?"

"Quite," Kaito agreed loftily, but he did reach out to tousle Shinichi's hair before he got back to making plans.

Surprisingly, Shinichi was still on Kaito's bed when Kaito finished most of his planning, but he had changed positions and was lying down, asleep. Kaito watched the steady, unchanging rise and fall of his chest, the way his hair shifted minutely against Kaito's pillow, how relaxed and peaceful and tranquil he looked, and realized just how bad he had it for Shinichi.

He couldn't stop looking at Shinichi over the late dinner they shared that night, while they washed dishes, during the Detective Samonji special they watched together. It was when Shinichi laughed at something onscreen and Kaito smiled along with him, even though he had no idea _what_ was funny, that he decided he needed to do _something_.

* * *

It was just Kaito's luck that the moment he worked up enough courage to confess his undying love to Shinichi and opened Shinichi's front door (which was worryingly unlocked), he found Shinichi hugging a girl almost as pretty as him and murmuring softly into her ear, things like _good to you_ and _treat you better_ and _take care of you_. Sappy, warm things. Lovey things.

Things that Shinichi was most definitely _not_ saying to him.

For a minute, he stood frozen in Shinichi's tiny entry area, mouth gaping a little as he felt himself turn to ice, until the girl happened to glance over and see him doing an impression of a statue.

"Oh!" she squeaked – and Kaito's heart plummeted; even her _voice_ was pretty – and gently uncurled herself from Shinichi's grasp. Her dress floated around her knees. She looked like a doll. "Shinichi, um."

 _They're on a first-name basis_ , Kaito thought as he felt his soul leave his 're _not even on a first name basis._

While Kaito was silently burning to death internally, Shinichi blinked his eyes open and glanced over at Kaito. The second they made eye contact, he went pink and flustered, a blush that Kaito would've found adorable in any other context crawling up his neck. "Oh my – Kuroba?" His voice was high and strangled and embarrassed, and Kaito wanted to curl up in a ball and cry for seventeen hours.

Instead he just sort of smiled woodenly and took a step back. "Sorry I, uh… interrupted. I'll just…" Kaito had to stop to breathe here. "Go. Sorry." He didn't move, though. All his muscles had atrophied within seconds.

The look on Shinichi's face was impossible to read. Similarly, the girl seemed to be at a loss as she glanced back and forth between them.

After another painful moment, during which Kaito continued to slowly wither up and die and Shinichi made a lot of aborted hand movements and stammered a bit, the girl threw her hands in the air and sighed heavily.

"I can't watch this," she stated flatly, and turned to Kaito. "I'm not dating Shinichi. He's like my little brother. My little _six-year-old_ brother who _lied to me_ for _over a year_."

"You're never going to let go of that, are you," Shinichi mumbled from behind her. "I _said_ I was sorry."

"I'm going through a really bad breakup," the girl continued on, ignoring him pointedly, "and then I came over here to be comforted, but all Shinichi could talk about was _adopting a pet cat_."

Shinichi looked horrified. "Ran!" he squawked, scandalized and adorable. Kaito felt his heart sputter back to life.

"So then," Ran steamrolled on, hands on her hips and immovable as a bulldozer, "I started yelling at him, so he got all sorry and hugged me. That's what you walked in on. Not some scandalous rendezvous." She whirled on Shinichi, jabbing him in the chest. He choked as if he'd been stabbed. "Now I'm going to have to go all the way to Osaka to get my comforting. I hope you're happy. You _better_ sort out your feelings with Kuroba-kun, because this is pathetic."

With that, she stalked past Kaito, yanked on her shoes, and left, leaving a stilted silence in her wake.

Kaito eventually broke it, once he'd reclaimed his soul and stopped feeling quite so hopeless. "What was that about adopting a pet cat?"

Unexpectedly, Shinichi turned pink. "It's – stop acting like you don't know what I'm talking about," he grumbled, averting his gaze. Kaito stared at him, bewildered.

"I honestly don't."

Slowly, Shinichi lifted his face to cast a searching look at Kaito through his eyelashes. When Kaito continued to look at him blankly, he groaned, and, storming forward, grabbed Kaito's hand, and began to pull him towards the living room. Which was in no way an unpleasant experience, considering how soft and warm Shinichi's hand was, but the shock made Kaito panic and flail a little. "Hey, what are you –"

He trailed off when Shinichi had successfully dragged him into the living room.

The room wasn't – well, it couldn't quite be called _homey_ , although it was certainly an improvement since the last time Kaito had visited. The TV, couch, potted plant, and coffee table were still in their places, but in addition, one wall had been covered in solid oak bookshelves, filled haphazardly with books and files and what looked like a few medals. There were also several canvases arranged beside the TV, canvases filled with bright, splotchy colors and elegant lines and the occasional geometric shape – modern art, basically.

"All I'm missing is the cat," Shinichi muttered, and Kaito turned on him.

"What's all of this?" he asked, a little breathless, because he _thought_ – could it be –

Looking uncomfortable, Shinichi rubbed at the back of his head. "Well, you know, it was – the first time you came over, you told me to get a bookshelf and a cat and some modern art or you wouldn't want to visit, so I – I got the bookshelf and the modern art and I was trying to get the cat."

"Why?" Kaito asked, almost afraid of the answer.

Shinichi's eyes were bright and clear and devastating as he looked straight at Kaito. Kaito felt as if he could spend days, weeks, _years_ trying to map out those eyes. "Because I want you to visit," Shinichi said, and his voice was quiet and earnest and vulnerable, so unguarded and defenseless. "Because I want to be with you."

Maybe he was being a bit presumptuous, but after hearing that, Kaito doubted anyone could restrain themselves. That was how he justified pushing Shinichi against the couch and kissing him until neither of them could breathe.

"I want to be with you, too," he murmured against Shinichi's lips, and he felt rather than saw Shinichi smiling at him as Shinichi's hands roved up Kaito's back to rest at the nape of his neck. "Always."

"In that case, the cat can be our first child," Shinichi mumbled, and then he did something spectacular with his tongue and cats were the last thing on Kaito's mind.

In retrospect, Kaito thought once he was pressed up behind Shinichi while they watched Detective Samonji on their couch with their cat sitting on his feet four years later, maybe it was a good thing that he hadn't moved out when Kudou Shinichi had moved in.

* * *

 **...yeah.**

 **If you enjoyed this fic even a little, please consider leaving me a review, and I'll see you all (hopefully) soon! - Luna**


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